


Butterfly Bed

by Rozarka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-30
Updated: 2007-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:51:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozarka/pseuds/Rozarka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione's non-naughty old room puts Viktor in a naughty mood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterfly Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Pure smut biscuit. Consider it a warning or whatever. *g* This has a sequel: [Pantry Payback](http://archiveofourown.org/works/474724).

"Did you ever haff a boy in this bed?" asked Viktor. He was sitting on her pale-lilac satin butterfly bedspread, on the butterfly-painted bed, gently testing the bounce in the mattress, and pretending not to look at her at all.

Hermione scowled at him to hide her blush. "Define 'haff', Krum."

Viktor bit his lip, looking out of the open window at the plum-laden branches of the tree outside, where a chorus of a thousand insects hummed a sweet deep chamber note, drunk on late-summer nectar. "Did you ever share this bed vith a boy? Let him kiss you, vith your hair vild all over the pillow? Let him touch you?" He met her gaze suddenly, and she immediately saw that what she'd thought might be jealousy was in fact teasing of a wicked sort that Viktor was very capable at. "Put his fingers under your clothes ... on your skin?"

She raised her chin in defiance. "That's for me to know, and you to find out," she stated quietly and returned to her task, leaning over her old collection of plush toys, sorting out those she was going to keep and those she would give to charities. Her parents were selling the house, moving to a flat that was smaller and more practical, and Hermione and Viktor had come here to help them clear out Hermione's things.

Of course, Viktor couldn't resist a challenge like that. She jumped when she felt the heat from his body behind her a second before his hand touched her shoulder blade, gently rubbing the light cotton of her summer blouse over her skin. "Did he make you feel good, this boy? So good, you vere writhing and trying not to make sounds, vith your parents somevhere in the house?" His hand lifted her hair away from her neck and he lightly blew on her nape. "Did he put his hand in your knickers and feel how vet you vere? Did he tell you vot a sweet little cunt you haff?"

"Viktor!" Her cheeks burning, she abruptly straightened. He'd anticipated it though, rising with her, his front flush against her back, his hands curling loosely around her arms.

"I not believe you ever had a boy in this bed," he murmured against her ear, and she blushed deeper despite herself, despite having been married for half a year now and starting to get used to Viktor's entrancing sensuality. "First time vith me, you vere so gentle, so shy." He stroked her arms softly, up and down, making goosepimples rise on her skin. "Vot a pity. Every girl's bed should haff had at least one horny boyfriend in it." 

"Well, you went back to Bulgaria for four years so that concern is a bit hypocritical," she pointed out archly, swallowing her giveaway sigh as she felt him becoming hard against the small of her back. "Viktor, honestly, this isn't proper at all."

"Your parents vill not come up here, I think." He paused, stroking her arms with that seductive lightness. "They are busy downstairs." He turned her towards the bed. "Look at it. It is begging to be defiled. Just one time, in its proper, virginal butterfly life."

Perversely, the laughter in his voice turned her on more than anything. "Oh, Viktor," she whispered when he put his hand at her waist, pushing up the thin cotton batiste of her blouse, long fingers splaying out over soft skin. "We ... we really can't." Her face flamed with a delicious, embarrassing heat. "They're right downstairs in the living-room, they'll hear..."

"Ve could use silencing charm ... but vot vould be fun in that?" He nipped at her ear fairly sharply, and put his other hand over her mouth when she exclaimed at the slight pain. "Ve must be _very_ quiet," he told her, his voice definitely laughing now.

Oh, it just wasn't fair. He was steering her slowly towards the bed, stroking her stomach, and she was already wet, her knickers feeling sticky and warm under the light wrap skirt. It would be easy, her body purred at her in tempting tones: not many clothes to remove, just a skirt to push up and knickers to the side ... and it really was a shame with the poor, undefiled bed...

She realized her hesitation had made refusal a moot point. Viktor was already nudging her down onto her elbows on the lilac satin butterflies, and the lazy confidence of his touch was too promising to resist. She climbed up on trembling legs, starting to turn around, but he steadied her there on her elbows and knees. "Stay like this," he murmured. "Ve vill only get chance to do it once, so it must be a little dirty to ... vot is vord, compensate?"

A moan escaped her and his fingers were at her mouth again, lightly crossing her lips. "Remember, _mila_. Ve both know you like to make sounds, but this time you must be quiet, or Mr. and Mrs. Granger vill know exactly vot a naughty little girl they haff."

His words surged through her in a hot wave of guilty arousal, and she pressed her lips together to be quiet, as he pushed her skirt up around her waist, baring her behind in her black lace knickers. Viktor hummed and lightly traced a finger over the soaking wet crotch. "Hmm, you really are a naughty girl..."

"Please," she whispered. She bit her lip as he moved his hands further up, under her blouse, pushing her bra up and away from her breasts. He pinched her nipples hard and she gave a soundless little cry and wriggled her bum against him. Facing her there were teddy bears and bunnies propped against the pillows, and her collection of classical children's books caught her eye in the bookcase on the wall by the bed, and when she tore her gaze away from the childhood reminders and looked out of the open window, there was the wooden birdhouse her granddad had helped her make the summer she was eleven, dancing in the breeze on a branch of the old plum tree. It all felt ... so strange, so wrong yet so exciting. _Her parents downstairs._ She felt another rush of slick warmth between her legs at the panicked thought of being caught, at the knowledge she wasn't about to stop Viktor. "Please, I want--"

"I know." His fingers were back between her legs, pushing the crotch of her knickers aside, and his teasing control faltered for a moment as her wetness covered his palm. " _Akh, mila moya, tak prekrasna..._ " He took a deep, shuddering breath and pushed a finger inside her. "Such a sweet little cunt. Has vaited so patiently for boyfriend to come and praise it like that, in this bed," he said with a low laugh. He moved his finger slowly, gently, in and out. It felt maddening ... so good, and not enough. She whined, softly in her throat.

"Shh. Not vant them to hear, no?" He slid his finger out and circled her clitoris lightly, yet with such intimate familiarity that she stiffened, feeling a climax start to build gasping and fast. "Some young boys not know to do this for you. But you are lucky to be vith boy who knows more." She could hear the grin in his voice as he took his finger away.

She was shaking all over with arousal, frustration and nerves. "Viktor, you're being a self-satisfied prat and if you don't get a move on I'll--"

He chuckled and moved closer and she felt his hard, naked length against her bum. She hadn't even noticed him unbuttoning the fly of his jeans. She spread her knees helplessly, trying to spur him to action. Hell, this wasn't the time for slow teasing, she was dying to come and she was going to die if her parents came and -- "Aaahhh!" she moaned as he found the spot and pushed inside her in a long, hard thrust.

This time, the hand over her mouth was firm. She closed her eyes groaning, and licked his palm gently.

"Quiet?" he breathed. "Promise?"

She nodded, and he trailed the hand down, squeezing a breast before he thumbed the nipple through the thin blouse, as he started to move.

He fucked her with deliberate, slow thrusts, pulling back leisurely and driving home hard, his breath under harsh control. He was pinching her nipple rhythmically and it was driving her wild as surely as the relentless thrusts. Hermione whimpered without a sound and felt the heat in her body start to boil over, rise into her neck, her face ... she was breathing so fast, light-headed and woozy from the strain of keeping silent.

The bed was creaking now, there was nothing to do about it and there was absolutely no stopping it or she was going to scream with frustration. God, she was near to tears of despair, hovering so close. It would take so little ... such a small thing and she'd be flying--

She managed to loosen the sweaty death grip of one hand on the bedspread and move it down between her thighs, and Viktor growled softly into her neck, pushing into her harder and faster. _Creak, creak, creak,_ said the bed. "Fuck ... yes, _yes_ ," said Viktor, grabbing her around the hips and pulling her more tightly into his thrusts, his hand massaging her breast roughly as her finger found the perfect, most delicious spot--

She circled her finger there for only a few seconds, stiffened and then whimpered softly in a shock of relief as she started to come, panting in helpless, precariously controlled bursts, just tiny suppressed sounds slipping over her lips. Endured in silence, the heat flared wildly and seared through her so hard it felt like some sweet way of going insane. Viktor muttered Bulgarian encouragement in her ear in that rough hiss of a voice he reserved for talking pure filth in his native tongue, his hips pistoning through her orgasm and then holding before he came in shaky, measured plunges, his deep, hoarse grunts not nearly as discreet as her own gritty restraint.

Boneless, she collapsed down on her stomach with him over her. Viktor laughed breathlessly and rolled over on his side, one of his long legs still resting between both of hers, his skin as hot as the satin of the bedspread was cool against her sweaty skin.

"Oh, you ... you--" Both words and breath failed her. "You tell _me_ to be silent..."

His gaze was sated and glittering as he accepted the slaps of her hands against his chest for a moment, before gathering both her wrists in his hand and leaning in, panting, to steal a tender kiss. " _Mila_ , I think you forgot for a minute that they are not really in the house--" His grin was so smug it was truly unbearable. "I think you got very much into your naughty fantasy, yes?"

"The window is open!" she sputtered. "The ... the neighbours, and ... and anyway you know bloody well Mum and Dad will be here any minute! They could have been here two minutes ago and we would have--" Her expression fell as she heard the car coming up the driveway. "Viktor!" She scrambled off the bed, pulling down her skirt and tugging her bra and knickers into place, then made a half-hearted attempt to pat down her hair.

Viktor was grinning all the while as he tucked his limp cock back inside his jeans and buttoned the fly, and sat up on the edge of the bed. He was still rather out of breath, just like her. "You must admit, it vos exciting. And ve vere only doing it for sake of the poor, deprived bed," he added, patting the bed in sympathy as he tried in vain for a sanctimonious expression.

She narrowed her eyes and walked over to him, poking him in the chest with a finger while she tried very hard not to laugh down into his smug face. "You get away with it because you're charming," she said. "And sweet. Most of the time. But Viktor, mark my words -- you'll pay for this."

"Vill take my punishment as a man," he said, his expression sombre, but when she heard the front door open downstairs and gave in to the giggles that threatened, he grabbed her around the waist and laughed silently, too, face pressing into her breasts.

***

Two minutes later, Mrs. Granger came up the stairs to find her daughter peacefully sorting through toys and books, while Viktor was meticulously folding the lovely butterfly bedspread, humming some Bulgarian tune to himself. She smiled as she noted how relaxed and happy they seemed, so content in each other's company.

She did dearly love Ron with his boyish humour and Harry with his penchant for adventure, but she was so glad that Hermione had ended up marrying such a quiet, _responsible_ man.

-end-


End file.
